His By Design (14 page)

“Don’t, Jeff. Don’t go out there,” she pleaded. “He’s just waiting for you to make a scene and ruin the opening. He pretends to want to help me but he wants me to fail. Don’t help him, please.”

She watched the muscles in his jaw twitch as he clamped his teeth together, saw his fists clench and unclench in an effort to control his rage. “I’d better not find him alone, Zoe. So help me, I’ll—”

She put a finger against his lips. “Shhh. I’m okay. Let’s not let him ruin this day, please?”

He agreed with a curt nod.

By the time they went up front, Fredrick Barker was gone.

Chapter 13

Jeff closed the front door and locked it, leaving only the security lights to cast faint illumination across the gallery floor. Zoe had already gone up to her apartment, and although he couldn’t stay long, he wanted to check on her before he left.

The business with Barker still rankled and his knuckles itched with the desire to make contact with the bastard’s face. The man’s snide remark as he exited left Jeff more confused about Zoe’s business arrangement with him. He sighed and trudged up the stairs and down the short hallway to Zoe’s door. He knocked lightly.

Zoe opened the door wearing sweat pants and an oversized T-shirt, her hair loose to cascade over her shoulders. She was a feisty woman, no doubt about it, but after what happened downstairs it was her petite fragility that held his attention tonight. She’d wormed her way into his heart and he’d do anything to protect her. Anything.

He leaned down to kiss her and she flinched from him, ever so slightly, but nonetheless he felt her hesitancy.

“Are you all right?”
Was that a bruise at the corner of her mouth?

She nodded. “I’m fine. Really. Come on in.” She took his hand and led him to the sofa. “Can I get you something to drink?”

He declined with a shake of his head, and she smiled ruefully. “Yeah, me neither. Too much champagne already.” She held up the bottle of water she’d opened for herself. “The opening went well, don’t you think?”

He took a seat on the sofa. The fact that Zoe didn’t snuggle up against him as she usually did wasn’t lost on him. Something worried her and he had no doubt it was the result of Barker’s visit.

“I think it went very well, considering the number of people who showed up and the number of sales you made. You must be happy with the turnout and there should be more customers tomorrow. All those folks who shopped the big box stores today will still be curious about what you have for sale downstairs.”

“You sold three of your paintings and the unicorn statue, Jeff. I am so happy for you.” She leaned over and kissed him lightly, as if to make up for her earlier reluctance. As soon as those checks clear, I’ll cut you one for all four items. Even minus my commission, you’ll have made over ten thousand dollars. I’m surprised you aren’t more excited.”

As she set the water bottle on the coffee table her shirtsleeve slid up and Jeff caught a glimpse of purple on her upper arm. He reached over and pushed the sleeve up. Dark bruises encircled her biceps. The kind left by a brutal grip. She jerked her arm away. Pinning her with a look, he slid up the other sleeve to find a matching set of bruises.

What the hell? The bastard had grabbed her and kissed her and she hadn’t made a sound? Why hadn’t she called him? Even more concerning, why was the door locked when he came looking for her?

“Zoe, what’s really going on with Barker? He’s obviously more than simply your investor. Why did you let him put his hands on you?” He brushed his finger over the darkened corner of her mouth. “You could have called me.”

Or didn’t you want my help? Maybe you like to be manhandled? No, I don’t believe it.

On the other hand, how well did he really know her?

“I didn’t want to make a scene with all the people out front. ‘Owner Assaulted at Gallery Opening’ is not the kind of publicity I need.” She reached for her water bottle and took another swallow. Her brown eyes anguished, she met his gaze. “I never expected him to try anything physical. Before he’d only teased me about what he wanted when he won our bet.”

“Ah, the infamous bet. The business deal was your mother’s painting and sole ownership of the gallery if you didn’t pay him back on time. What else did you promise him?”

Tell me, Zoe. I won’t ever let the bastard take any more than you’re willing to give him. Trust me.

But if she couldn’t come up with the money by Barker’s deadline, would he give up his sister’s surgery funds to save her?

She shook her head. “Nothing valuable. He just wants his ego stroked.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “Let’s forget about him and concentrate on the important things.” She punched him playfully on his arm. “You are going to be rich. And famous.” She smiled, though it seemed a bit forced. “I’d better sign you to an exclusive contract before you get a swelled head and take off for the big city lights.”

“I’ll sign anything you want,” he murmured, caressing the curve of satiny skin over her delicate cheek.

His eyes fell on the soft spot below her ear where he knew she was particularly sensitive. There was no mistaking the mark that could only have been made by a lover’s mouth. He’d never left a mark—of any kind—on her smooth skin. The discovery hit him like a sucker punch to the gut. Just how much had gone on in the back room before he knocked? Questions filled his head like a swarm of angry bees. He needed time to think, time to sort out his feelings.

“You look tired, Zoe. I know today was hectic, and tomorrow may be just as busy. I’m going to head back to my place and let you get some much-needed rest. Dad should be here tomorrow, so call me when you’re up and about and we’ll come by.” He hated that he couldn’t spend Thanksgiving with Jen, but couldn’t come up with a plausible reason to turn down Amanda’s dinner invitation. He forced a smile. “Guess I should bring a few paintings to replace what sold today, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

Her smile appeared more genuine this time, reaching her eyes and making them sparkle.

“Thanks for everything, Jeff. Today would never have gone so well without you.”

She walked him to the door and kissed him goodbye. The brief touch of her lips to his was devoid of passion and he made no effort to escalate it. Both of them had other things on their minds.

He let himself into the studio and tossed hi
s keys on the workbench. The cold wind of his ride home had done nothing to clear his head. He forced thoughts of Zoe to the back of his mind and concentrated on the good news. He knocked on Jen’s door.

“You still up, Bug?”

“Of course I’m up, you idiot,” she called through the door. “Come on in.”

He found her sitting at the table, the glass of wine in front of her a sure sign of her nervousness. He dropped into the chair across from her and tried to look dejected. The expression wasn’t a difficult feat at the moment.

“Oh no,” Jen moaned, worry lines radiating from her narrowed eyes, “someone found out? I knew we shouldn’t have done this, Jeff.” She clasped her hands together, the knuckles white. “Are we going to jail?” When he didn’t immediately respond to her question, she clutched his shirtsleeve. “Tell me. Don’t just sit there. I can take it.”

“Well, we’re both going to have to make a trip to Baltimore next week.”

“Oh god. To see a lawyer?”

“No, I don’t think a lawyer will help.” He looked down at the table to keep her from seeing the gleam in his eyes.

“If you don’t stop stalling and tell me how bad things are, I’m going to smack you silly, Jeff. I mean it. What makes you think a lawyer wouldn’t help us?”

“Because.” He paused in spite of her threat. Finally he relented, “I don’t think we’ll need a lawyer to schedule an appointment with the plastic surgeon.”

It took a second for the words to register, then his sister got up and threw her arms around him. After a bone-crushing hug, she sat back down. “One of these days I’m going to get you for that, you big oaf. You scared me to death. So, one of my paintings sold, huh?”

There was a smile on her face for the first time in months. One side of it sagged, and turned her face into a Halloween horror mask, which brought home the real reason for all of his dissembling with Zoe. He grinned back at her, his earlier worries forgotten, at least temporarily. “Actually . . .” he drawled.

She tilted her head and gave him a look designed to singe his eyebrows.

“We sold three of your paintings, Bug.” He held up three fingers for emphasis. “The customers loved your work. I was pretty nervous talking to the buyers. But I made sure never to actually claim I was the artist. Luckily none of them asked me any questions about technique. Mostly they raved about the quality of the light, or the realism of the sunset at the marina, or the water in the cove. Your stuff was a hit, Bug, and I am so sorry you couldn’t be there to hear all of the praise in person.”

His sister was dumbstruck. She kept shaking her head in wonder. He enjoyed every second of it, his heart lighter than it had been in many months.

“I don’t know if sales will be like this on a regular basis, but between your three paintings and my sculpture, we made enough money to pay for your first operation, Bug.”

Just saying it intensified the surreal feeling he’d had at the gallery when Zoe told him how much the canvases went for. Even his unicorn sold for four hundred dollars, an amount he never would have had the nerve to ask for it. Zoe knew her stuff, all right. He owed her, big time.

“Dad’s going to be here tomorrow. Zoe invited him to the opening, but he had to finish up a job so he couldn’t make it today. Since he’ll have the van, we’ll take some more paintings of yours over.”

Jen nodded, still thunderstruck. “Sure. I’ll go pick out which ones you should take.” She stood.

“You don’t have to do it tonight, Bug. Sit down. Finish your wine. Savor the idea that you’re going to get those operations.” He tousled her hair. “You’ll be beautiful again.”

He savored the thought too. He may not be able to give her back her dancing, but he’d give her sunshine and fresh air and the friends she denied herself now. He wanted Zoe to meet her. He knew they’d get along well.

He hoped to hell the sale of her paintings continued. They’d still need the money for two more operations.

The sleek black BMW with tinted windows drove slowly by the Blue Point M
otor Coach Inn. A hundred yards down the road it circled back and parked alongside the unit with the unlit neon ‘Registration’ sign. Fredrick Barker had followed Zoe’s handsome handyman-turned-artist last night when he left the gallery. He sensed there was more going on between him and Zoe than a simple business arrangement, which gave him reason enough to find out more about Jeff Petrosky. If the former handyman thought he could derail the plans he had for the luscious Ms. Silvercreek and her gallery, he was sadly mistaken.

The door to the unit at the far end opened and Petrosky exited. He didn’t go far, unlocking the next door down and disappearing inside. A white van was parked in front of that unit and before long Petrosky and another man came out and loaded several large canvases into the rear of it. The older man went back inside for a few moments, then he reappeared and before closing the door, he spoke to someone inside.

“Jeff will probably have to stick around until the gallery closes, but I’ll only be gone for an hour or so. Want me to bring you back something for dinner?”

Baker couldn’t hear the reply, and in a few moments the two men left. His curiosity roused, Fredrick parked the car into the spot vacated by the van and got out. He knocked on the door but got no response. He knocked again and called out in a loud voice, “Delivery. I have a delivery here for a Mister Jeff Petrosky.”

Still no answer but he saw the curtain in the next unit over twitch slightly. Probably just a nosy neighbor, but, what the hell, he’d give it a try. Nosy neighbors were often valuable sources of information. He went to the next door and rapped sharply. “I’m looking for Jeff Petrosky. I have a delivery for him.” He’d just about given up when a voice called through the closed door. “Leave it at the registration desk. They’ll get it to him.”

“I’m supposed to deliver this in person,” he lied.

Silence. Guess whoever was in there wasn’t very friendly with Petrosky.

Even though he had no package to deliver, he figured he might as well see what he could find out at the front desk. He walked over. The sign on the door had a clock whose hands pointed to ten o’clock. It was already ten-thirty but when he tried the door, it was locked. He heaved a sigh, his irritation mounting. He pounded his fist on the door, causing the glass panes to rattle. After a few minutes he heard the slide of the deadbolt and the door opened.

“What do you want?” A cantankerous old man, his gray hair a tangled mess, a two-day-old beard covering his sunken cheeks, and wearing clothes he obviously had slept in, peered at him with bloodshot eyes. “Can’t you read the sign?” he rasped. “We don’t open till ten.”

“It’s ten-thirty, old man,” Fredrick spat. “Where’s the owner?”

“You’re lookin’ at him. If you want a room, you’re out of luck. We’re full up.”

A pungent mix of body odor, tobacco, and alcohol wafted out the door. Fredrick grimaced at the foul combination, but kept his foot in the door. “I’m looking for a Jeff Petrosky. I have a package for him.”

The man stuck out a hand that shook visibly. “I’ll see ‘at he gets it.”

“No. He has to sign for it,” Fredrick said, embellishing his lie. “What room is he in?”

“The one at the other end.” The old curmudgeon indicated the side with a jerk of his head. “If he’s not in, you can leave it next door with his sister.”

Sister, hmm? Interesting.

“I thought that was his room, but I tried there and next door. Nobody answered my knock.”

“Yeah, she ain’t goin’ to open the door for the likes of you, but she’ll get it later if you leave it outside her door.” He scratched his whiskered jaw. “Keeps to herself, mostly, that one does.”

“Really? How come?”

“Ain’t none of my business, nor yours neither, fella. You want to leave it here, fine. You want to leave it at her door, fine. You don’t, might as well take yourself back where you come from and quit bothering decent people.” This time he shut the door firmly in Fredrick’s face.